


Airports and Meetings

by rawpickles



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: A lot of kissing, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Daddy Kink, Filthy, M/M, Oh yes, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a lot of licking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7934803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawpickles/pseuds/rawpickles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamada is bored and has time to kill. Nakajima is lost and doesn't speak English.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And so we meet for the first time

Airports are boring, according to Yamada Ryosuke—21 year-old Japanese intern, who is stuck in Dubai International Airport, with his heavy _Jansport_ backpack slowing his pace of walk. It has only been two hours, only eighteen hours to go. Yes, he is quite aware of the commitment he has made of staying in the airport for twenty-one hours. _Yes._ 21.  
  
He has been adamant on finding the cheapest flight available to the US. And he found Emirates. With its first class seats being featured in the news or Youtube, he is actually quite surprised that Emirates is the most affordable option, out of many others. Not that he is actually planning on getting the first class seat or whatever, but it is supposed to be a good airline and cheap, so why not?  
  
But apparently it comes with its downsides too.  
  
Previously, he was okay with it. He likes having time to kill, well, most of the time anyway—and he uses this free time wisely, _usually._  
  
Only, _now_ he is bored out of his mind.  
  
Not knowing what to expect of Dubai but magnificence and richness, he just knew that Dubai would fulfil whatever it is he needs, isn’t Dubai like, one of the best international airports in the world? Uh, maybe.  
  
But apparently, he is wrong.  
  
He needs wifi, what else? But guess what? Surprise! NO WIFI!  
  
More specifically, there is, but the free wifi session available is a mere hour. 60 minutes of free surfing, then you need to pay up. Yamada does not take all this lightly, who the heck would charge visitors 5 dollars for an hour session of wifi? Whoever made this rule is downright barbaric and ruthless. Probably an old-school twit.  
  
He takes a wary glance at his watch, only to notice he has spent 10 minutes of contemplating upon whom to kill. Yamada sighs, lean back against the blue chair in the waiting gate. He is facing the city, the tallest building in the world in the distance.  
  
Maybe, _maybe_ —he can sneak out of the airport to have a short sightseeing trip?  
  
His mind made up, he marches towards the arrival in, er—wherever that is. He stops in front of Haagen Dazs shop and kindly asks the shop assistant where he can find the arrivals gate. They only point out that he needs to get down two levels, so he nods and mutters a small thank you.  
  
Dubai International Airport is great, with its majestic thick pillars and high ceilings, luxury brands from left and right. Too bad they do not provide free wifi, which is like, a _necessity_ for any airport, _ever._  
  
Walking towards the arrival, he takes a peek towards the array of baggage reclaim area and whistles. It’s too damn big, and so quiet too.  
  
And it is. Perhaps there are no arrivals as of yet, as he is one of those who arrive at 5 AM in the morning. It feels even more humongous this way, and Yamada instantly feels smaller.  
  
Strolling towards the Emirates customer service, he asks if it is possible for him to take a day tour as he has more than 10 hours to kill.  
  
“Sure, may I know which passport do you have with you?”  
  
“Japan.”  
  
“No need for visa. However, you do need to pay for the day tour.”  
  
Whipping out a brochure, Yamada eyes it warily. It is one of those hop-on hop-off kinds, the very same tour that Yamada went to when he was in Singapore. It seems to be popular, and quite expensive too.  
  
After a few more enquiries, he thanks the lady and walks off. If he has to pay 55 dollars for a damn day tour, it is not worth it. He also needs to take metro to the city and wait for the bus, thus overall, it is too troublesome to go through all that.  
  
Additionally, not that it is not worth it, more like he has close-to- _zero_ dollars. Or yen. Or money, really.  
  
He rubs his temple in distress, crumpling the brochure and shoves it into the backpack. Now he has nothing, absolutely nothing to do. NOTHING.  
  
He is just standing there with nowhere to go before Yamada hears the familiar language.  
  
“Ah, shit shit shit. Where is it, where is it?”  
  
It is a voice of distress, one Yamada knows too well. It is also in Japanese, in which Yamada is so grateful, _somehow._ Yamada turns his head to the left and sees a slender man, wearing casual looking clothes, T-shirt and a grey jacket, loose jeans, and a pair of Converse. He is biting his lips in deep concentration, as he looks at the signs that show where the baggage reclaim and passport control are.  
  
“Um, can I help you?” Yamada tentatively asks in Japanese.  
  
“Oh, thank God!” He exclaims and Yamada blinks. He walks nearer to Yamada and point to the signs. “Um, I’m looking for departure gates. I have a connecting flight to Chicago, but uh...I don’t think this is the place.”  
  
No shit, Sherlock. Yamada shakes his head. “This is the arrival, you’re looking at baggage reclaim and passport control, departure gates are upstairs, as most departure gates in any airport usually are located.” Yamada resists the urge to roll his eyes before he shrugs. “I can show you if you want, I’m going there too anyway.”  
  
The stranger’s face, if that’s even possible, shine even brighter and Yamada finds himself being half-hugged in an ultimately awkward way as the stranger says _thank you oh my god you saved my life blablabla_ —  
  
Yamada grimaces, and shrugs out of the embrace guardedly. “Ok, uh—It’s this way.”  
  
Both walk to the elevator and once inside, the stranger goes to reach the only button available in the elevator, assuming it is the floor they both want to go to, however Yamada grips his arm in panic. “Wait, that’s emergency button!”  
  
When all he gets is a confused stare, Yamada sighs and runs his fingers through his tangled locks. “This elevator, _apparently_ , only goes to the third floor and this floor, so there is no button. The only one is only for emergency situations.” Yamada says, as he reads the instruction on the wall of the lift.  
  
They both make their way to the departure gate, making random comments about brands as they walk pass by. Yamada is pleasantly surprised that this stranger know more than he let on, and they exchange more friendly banters before Yamada tells him he wants some _cappucino._  
  
“Uh, what’s your name?” The stranger asks, as he buys Yamada the coffee as a token of gratitude.  
  
“Yamada Ryosuke.”  
  
“I’m Nakajima Yuto! You can call me just Yuto.”  
  
“Sure...”  
  
Nakajima retrieves the cup of coffee to Yamada’s awaiting hand, a smile adorning his gentle feature. “Nice to meet you!”  
  
Yamada returns the smile.  
  
  


-

  
“So where are you going?” Nakajima asks as he munches on his burger at McDonald’s. It is 12:44 PM and they both are hungry, and Nakajima randomly chooses the only fast food stall (that is listed in the meal coupon provided from the airlines) he is familiar with.  
  
“D.C.”  
  
“Oh,” Nakajima takes the moment to swallow his food before asking more questions. “For vacation?”  
  
“No, I—I’m going to stay there for awhile.” Yamada says, picking on his french fries.  
  
“Are you a PR?”  
  
Yamada shakes his head. “It’s a J-1 visa, culture exchange program, something like that.”  
  
“Ahh”, Nakajima says interestedly. “I heard of it before.”  
  
“Are you a PR?”  
  
“Nah, I’m just visiting my mom.” He says, something akin to worry etches his face. “She’s been sick, I’m just worrying about her.”  
  
Yamada hums, nodding. “My mom’s been sick too, she’s been in and out of the hospital for a while.” He slightly wonders if that is too much information on a guy he barely knows, but he shrugs the thought away. “She has weak lungs.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Nakajima says genuinely, and it is. “Well, my mum has cancer.”  
  
“Oh, I— _I’m_ sorry. I can’t even imagine what kind of pain you and her are going through.” Yamada smiles sadly, offering condolences.  
  
“Nah, I learnt to deal with it.” Nakajima takes a sip on his Coke, and leans back to his chair. “Wow, so much for a casual conversation between strangers, huh?”  
  
Yamada feels a chuckle coming out of his lips before he can help it. “Yeah,” He laughs lightly. “Way too depressing for 10 hours time-killing session in freaking Dubai.”  
  
They both breaks into small laughter, then continues to exchange information of each other. It is a good hour to kill.

-

  
“What, really? That’s a tough choice of lifestyle.” Nakajima comments, they are both in a random departure gate, as it is too soon to tell which gate their flights will be in. It is considerably quiet, sans the voice of workers dangling from ceiling as they clean the glass windows.  
  
“I didn’t choose the lifestyle, it chose me.” Yamada chuckles, before sighing, he tends to do that a lot somehow. “My mom went so excited the moment I came out, she demands to see my _boyfriend._ And I don’t even have one.”  
  
Nakajima laughs. “I came out as bisexual exactly two days ago to my mom, she laughed and hit me in the head, and said—,” He clears his throat, and lets out a high pitched voice to imitate his mom. “— _Oh dear, tell me something I don’t know_.”  
  
Nakajima laughs at his own poor attempt to imitate the voice and Yamada watches Nakajima’s beautiful eyes twinkle, as he is shook with laughter. Yamada follows, being carried away by his vibe. He does not remember ever laughed this out loud before.  
  
Well, Nakajima is absolutely a good companion and Yamada thinks this is certainly a good start of something.  
  



	2. and so we meet again

Hot.

It’s so hot.

Yamada wipes off the sweat forming on the side of his forehead with his handkerchief, before he puts it back to his jeans pocket. This is one of those hobbies that he personally thinks is disgusting yet does anyway. He’s Japanese, dammit.

He is yet again waiting for his train after visiting his mother in the hospital. She does seem like a little more energetic than yesterday, but he knows better. His mother will never get better.

She has been transferred to a hospital in D.C. as per his father. He genuinely wants her to get better, and since Yamada lives in the United States, he wants someone to look after her. Yamada’s big sister is too busy with her own job in Tokyo.

His father visited once just to see her again, and Yamada can see the love emanated from his wrinkly eyes. He still loves her dearly. Too bad their relationship is too destructive for them to be even solely together in the same place for more than a day. Especially considering the circumstances, dear mother’s condition can turn for the worst pretty much anytime now.

Yamada does not let his thoughts wonder further than that and chooses to look at the screen to see when that damn train is coming. He then curses when he sees that the train is delayed. _Who the fuck is in charge of these train schedules?_

He whips out his earphones as he sighs. Putting them on and turns on his current favourite playlist. He has been in love with American music after he came to the US. He has deep appreciation with hauntingly beautiful electronic notes. Such atmospheric and melodic tunes.

_Clutch your clouds_  
_Inside them lies_  
_Joy forgotten by men grown wise_

Yamada lets his eyes flutter close.

_“Don’t worry. We’ll meet aga_ _—_ _”_

Warm air gushed over him as train passes by and he opens his eyes one more time. He pushes himself off the railing and checks the time. Time passes quicker than ever with these songs on.

_“Can I call you Ryosuke?_ ”

Why does he keep thinking about him? It has been 4 months and he has not made any advances on trying to even contact him. Even if there is a possibility that he lost Yamada’s number, surely he could have emailed Yamada or, or—even try to message him through Facebook? Yamada is sure that he gave Nakajima Yuto every single way to communicate with him. He has not exactly been timid with the fact that he likes the other.

_“Look, Naka_ _—Yuto. I don’t want us to just part ways and never meet each other. I like you. So here.”_

Yamada had been handing the other a piece of paper, full of his information, even his address.

_Nakajima had been hugging him to death, and at some point even brings his face closer to his head. Yamada would like to think that he even kissed it. But he could be wrong. But the sincerity behind Nakajima’s words had been as real as day._

_“I like you too.”_

But it has been 4 months, and so far, _nothing._

Yamada looks at scenery of traffic through the window as the train rumbles. His eyes look droopy as he takes a peek at himself through the reflection. Forlornly he sighs as he pays attention to the lyrics of the song.

_The lake will overflow_  
_Flood all I’ve ever known_

 

-

  
“Tadaimaaaaaaaaa” Yamada finishes with a yawn. Trudging through his living room, he finds a half-full can of green tea on the coffee table and chugs on it. He plops down to the couch and opens his snapchat, exploring through his friends’ snaps.

Interestingly enough, Snapchat’s not that big in Japan. But he has been hooked on it ever since he comes here and recommends it to all his close friends in Japan. As a way to stay connected in a fun way, and his friends have been using it a lot after finding the endless amusement in taking short videos about absolutely everything.

Yamada laughs when he sees his dear friend from high school Yaotome Hikaru tries to punch through a watermelon, but ending up with a bruise in his hand, while voices of his other friends deafening as they laugh. Seems like they are having a pool party at Okatomo’s house, another close friend of his.

Yamada laughs too as he wipes his tears, blaming it on Yaotome’s amusing stupidity.

He puts his phone down after a while. It is 10 o’clock so he should be sleeping. So he rises from the couch, does his nightly routine and goes to bed.

He blames ‘jetlag’ for his incapability to sleep that night.

-

  
HOT.

IT’S HOTTER THAN YESTERDAY.

Yamada wants to scream. He hates the weather. He hates the humidity. He hates that he sweats too much to can ever stay calm. But for some reason, his dumb brain told him to come to the National Mall because, well—because he has not been here yet and that he has nowhere else to be.

Yamada is not a really big fan of outdoor sightseeing, but he is not a really big fan of staying inside the house 24/7 either.

He whips out his camera and took some pictures at the reflecting pool, and then goes to cool off under a tree, just sitting there with earphones on.

He opens his phone and curses, even his phone is burning and the battery is draining because of the heat. He puts it back to his bag and deems himself okay enough to call it a day.

Fanning himself with his travel journal, he pushes himself off the grass and walks towards Smithsonian metro, which is a good 7 minute walk from the reflecting pool, however for Yamada it certainly feels like 40 minutes walking with fire burning in his body.

It takes only several steps, before Yamada feels like the ground is shaking. His bag falls from his shoulder as suddenly he is at the ground. The paved pathway is hot under his knees and he curses, but does not have the energy to bring himself up.

People are starting to crowd him by now. Several people helping him to his feet, but all Yamada feels is how lightweight his body is.

“Do you speak English? Are you okay?” A person asks but he sounds so far away.

With all energy he can muster, he nods once.

“Can someone call 911?”

Yamada shakes his head fervently, trying to push people off of him. “No, I’m fine!” He tries to say, but even he himself sounds far away too. He does not want to end up in a hospital because he cannot burden his mother with bills. He just needs a little more rest, that’s it.

The two people that are holding him right now are stronger than he is. Their hands on his upper arms will certainly create bruises, so Yamada tries to shake them off. The nosey crowd surrounding him are way too close too and Yamada feels like his chest tightens and cannot breath.

“Ryo—! Ryosuke?!”

It took a moment before Yamada can realize, but he hears it.

“Is he your friend? He’s severely dehydrated, we need to get an ambulance.”

Nakajima replies something, and the person says something back before turning to Yamada and asks him too. This guy sure does talk a lot.  

Yamada is too tired to answer, but he raises his head to look at the face he has been dreaming of seeing again. Nakajima stands a few inches away as he appears worried. Nakajima Yuto looks as good as they first met, and Yamada lets out a smile before closing his eyes, letting these people do what they want. He is just—way too _tired._

-

 

 

Oh, shit.

When Yamada opens his eyes he is in a white room. Honestly, can they tone down the color a bit? It’s literally blinding. He sees the tube above his head and the steady flow of liquid dripping that connects through his arm. Did he really pass out in front of everyone? He widens his eyes and brings his hands to his face.

So embarrassing!

Oh my God oh my God ohmygodandandand—

The door opens ajar, revealing a head peeking in. There is no mistaking it. It’s Nakajima _-fucking-_ Yuto. In District of Columbia! He saw everything too! He has a smile plastered to his face like a dork, but Yamada is pretty sure he is laughing at how pathetic this whole thing is.

“How are you feeling?”

“Dandy.” Yamada grumbles.

Nakajima lets out a laugh, and sits in a chair on the side of the bed like he belongs there. He runs his hand through his wavy hair, looking as messy as ever.

“That was not how I expect our second meeting to be, to be honest.” Nakajima starts, and Yamada feels his cheek reddening.

“Me neither.” _I didn’t even expect us to meet at all._

“You lost weight.” Nakajima comments with a frown.

“And you gained some.” Yamada intends to tease, but he thinks he ends up complimenting him. It’s true, though. Seems like Nakajima puts on a little bit of muscle there. Nakajima smiles at him as Yamada gives a small one back.

The doctor ends up releasing Yamada that same day after a promise that he would drink enough water for the day. The latter just nods and grabs his bag. Yamada looks ahead and meets eyes with the other as Nakajima waits patiently by the door with a smile.

Yamada feels his heartbeat reverberates deep like crazy.

This is so not cool.

 

 

 

-

  
They both ends up in Starbucks somewhere near the hospital. Yamada quietly sips on his cappuccino frap as memories from Dubai come rushing back. He scrunches his nose with disgust as Nakajima drinks his Java chip frap in one go. It’s a Venti-sized for goodness’ sake! Seriously, this guy’s so weird.

“I guess—I guess I want to apologize.” Nakajima facial expression turns gloomy as he utters the words.

“Hm?”

“For not—” Nakajima hesitated before continuing. “For not contacting you.”

Deciding that he is unable to stay bitter about the subject, he gives Nakajima a shake of the head and smile instead. Nakajima gives a smile back, but it does not quite reach his eyes. The taller lets out a sigh and decides to continue with his story.

“I was devastated after I learnt that by the time I got to Chicago, my mom didn’t make it.”

Yamada exhales, instantly grabbing the other’s hand that is cupping the coffee cup for his dear life. The hand is cold, but Yamada’s is too.

“I kind of—lost it, I guess. Who’s going to take care of my little brother? He’s still got a long way ahead of him. My dad too, he was in a state of shock at the time.” He chuckles bitterly. “As if the state that my mom was in could get any better anyway.”

“Yuto—”

“And then there’s you.”

Yamada holds his breath.

“You are—You’ve been—Uhh..” Nakajima’s face is red, but Yamada is patient. “You’ve been the one thing that pulled me through.”

“It’s crazy, isn’t it? I’m stupid for not contacting you during that time. I could’ve been in much better situation, perhaps moved on quicker than I did.” The taller man curls his hand to a fist as Yamada sneaks in his fingers to his palm to properly hold his hand together.

“But you’re here, aren’t you?” Yamada asks as-a-matter-of-factly. “You’re here right now. By pure luck you saw me, well, passing out, out of nowhere. But you were there, and you’re here now.” Nakajima laughs a little.

“I was so worried.” Nakajima puts the other hand on top of Yamada’s hand, and Yamada feels his cheeks reddening. “I was actually planning to come by your house.”

“Eh? Ah—”

“But I was—thinking of ways to say I’m sorry to you. I was coming up with scenarios in my mind so that you wouldn’t get mad. But I wasn’t really sure that you’d accept my apology. I—I wasn’t even sure if you still remember me, to be honest. As well as the fact that—”

When Yamada looks up from his coffee cup, he sees Nakajima’s face, resolute and determined. He brings the hand up to his mouth and kisses it so gently.

“The fact that, uh—well, I love you.”

 

-  


_I was waiting for someone,_  
_To turn my world around._  
_You came in the summer,_  
_And time was winding down._

Yamada breathes into Nakajima’s white shirt as he sits on top of him, smelling the musk and sweat that he has imagined Yuto to have. The latter’s hands are on the side of his exposed hips, gently rubbing it in a circular motion.

They’re here. In Yamada’s house. In his couch. This must be a dream.

Nakajima offers Yamada a smile, letting him to be on charge and the latter gives no time to waste as he takes off his top. Offering to unbutton his—his boyfriend’s shirt, Nakajima pulls the other into a bruising kiss, pouring desperation and determination into his every move. The taller shrugs his shirt off his shoulder, then; using both of his hands to cup Yamada’s face to, if it’s even possible, deepen the kiss.

Nakajima’s hands, tongue, breath, everything about him are making him dizzy. He rises from his lap and pushes Nakajima back until Nakajima has to crane his neck up to match with Yamada’s eagerness.

After a while, Yamada pulls back from the kiss, eyes droopy as he comes back from his high. They have a trail of saliva connecting to each other’s mouth, and as typically disgusting that is to Yamada, it turns him on even more.

Yamada looks down at Nakajima with a smile, then presses his forehead with the other’s. His face contorts with unexplainable happiness and he lets out a sob. He is so fucking happy he can’t stop it.

“Yuto—I fucking love you.” He kisses his nose.

Nakajima takes Yamada by the waist then pushes him down to the couch; with a smile he leans down and traps Yamada’s lips with a sensual kiss. Yamada closes his eyes and pulls him closer, biting his Nakajima’s upper lip and then flicking it with his tongue.

“You’re so—you’re a dream come true.” Nakajima whispers.

_You too._ Yamada wants to say.

Yamada tugs his boyfriend’s jeans as the other gets the clue, immediately unbuckles his belt and taking off everything but skin.

“It’s unfair if you’re not naked too.” Nakajima pouts.

Yamada playfully slaps Nakajima on the head before giving him a kiss on the neck. “Don’t you worry about that”

He is wearing sweatpants at the time, and thus has no problem taking it off. Within seconds he shrugs out of it, and with nothing to hide, Nakajima bend his head to take a nipple into his mouth, playfully flicking it with his tongue. Yamada shivers yet marvel at the feeling.

Trailing kisses, licks, and gentle nips, he takes Yamada’s cock by the hand, gently stroking it as a gasp can be heard from below him.

“Yu...to.”

“I’m gonna let you fuck my mouth, Ryosuke.” Nakajima says. As his cock twitch at the moan from below him, he nibbles on the side of the shaft, trailing each vein with his tongue. His tongue moves upwards until he reaches the uncircumcised shape of the tip, and he breathes into it while Yamada gasp.

“Fuck, please! Just put my cock in your mouth!” Yamada shouts desperately.

Nakajima chuckles, and takes him in.

Inch.

By.

Inch.

Yamada gasps as he let out a shout of ‘Fuck yes!’; his hand shoots towards the other’s head. Hands tangled in the messy locks as Nakajima begins to bob in and out with surprising ease.

With a pop, Nakajima retreats. A glint of mischief dancing upon his eyes. “I thought I told you to fuck my mouth.”

_He’s gonna be the death of me,_ Yamada thinks. He braces himself as he grabs Nakajima’s head with both of his hands, and assists him. Yamada seems like he’s not doing a great job as he pushes Nakajima’s head off of his cock, desperately panting for breath.

When Nakajima asks him why, Yamada quietly replies. “I want to cum with you inside me. Please.”

Nakajima gives the cock a kiss as Yamada pouts. He then laughs at climbs on top of Yamada once more. He nuzzles his neck as he asks, “What position do you like, Ryosuke?”

Turning 99 shades darker, Yamada wraps his arm around Nakajima’s neck, moans lightly when he starts rubbing their crotch together.

“Missionary.”

Nakajima pulls off of him and rummages through the 7-Eleven plastic bag that they went to earlier. He takes the lube and condom they bought and put it on while he pours lube on his fingers before spreading Yamada’s legs.

Damn, this view right here is a sight to behold.

Unable to contain it, he pushes a single digit in. With lube, it’s far easier to move in and out. He doesn’t give Yamada a chance to adjust as he adds another one, while he alternates by giving it licks.

“Oh shit, that feels good, Yuto—”

Nakajima can feel the bundle of nerve touching the tip of his fingers, so he keeps directing them away from it, so that Yamada won’t cum as fast. As Nakajima adds another in, Yamada grabs his hand, takes his hand to his mouth and licks the fingers sensuously. Nakajima feels like he just stopped breathing at the lewd display.

His cock certainly twitches at the display as Yamada moans at the fingers inside his mouth.

“Fuck me...daddy.”

_Lord have mercy on me._

Pouring generously onto his cock, Nakajima gives it a few pumps before pushing it in. He hears Yamada groaning so he gives Yamada’s cock gentle stroking motion for him to relax a little.

Once he’s inside, he exhales. He feels Yamada crosses his legs around Nakajima’s body as he is forced to enter even deeper.

“Ah, _fuck!”_ Yamada is too fucking tight.

“Come on, daddy.” Yamada kisses Nakajima’s forehead. “Fuck me like you how wanted it.”

Nakajima loses it then. This is way too good to be true. Too good to even be a fantasy. He is sure he will leave marks on Yamada’s hips as he grips them hard, ramming in and out like an animal. Only Yamada can make him feel this way, so out of control, so wild, so untamed.

“Right there. Oh fuck—! I’m cumming soon...!”

Nakajima pulls Yamada up into his lap without disconnecting their bodies, and Yamada immediately works for it as he bounces up and down, their mouth never leave each other’s. Nakajima doesn’t dare to look away as he stares at Yamada’s blissed facial expression, fearing this can be a dream.

When Yamada opens his eyes, those hazel eyes look so pure yet tainted as he presses their forehead together. “Cum with me, Yuto.”

Nakajima roughly thrusts up his hips to meet with Yamada’s movements, it’s becoming uncoordinated and Yamada senses that Nakajima is at his peak. He pushes himself off of Nakajima and takes off the condom before inserting the cock inside him.

Nakajima shouts as he releases inside Yamada, splashing the inside with his cum. Yamada cums a few thrusts later, pulling Nakajima into a bruising kiss.

“It was...” Yamada starts as Nakajima pulls off of the other, still panting with an aftersex glow surrounding him. “It was good.”

“Yeah...” Nakajima laughs after a few moments. “It was.”

“I love you, Nakajima Yuto.” Yamada means it, and Nakajima knows that.

They kiss once more, as one is never enough anyway. Nakajima does not reply, but Yamada doesn’t need him to.

 

 

-

“You’re going to Tokyo, right?”

“Yes, maam.” Yamada replies. His hand intertwined with Nakajima’s as they stand at the check-in counter.

“There will be a ten-hour delay at Dubai. But there will be meal provided by Emirates Airlines. These are the meal coupons that you can use once you get there. Dubai’s airport is huge, so I’m sure you’ll find something to do there.” The check-in person says with a smile.

“I’m sure we will.” Nakajima offers, looking at Yamada with the brightest smile.  


**Author's Note:**

> hi there <3


End file.
